Sometimes, it’s nice to revisit your childhood. In my case, I’ve decided to hang on to it for as long as I can.

This became all but clear to me a few weeks ago, when a couple of friends invited me to go with them to a local pizza restaurant/“family fun center” (if you live in Russellville, you know what I’m talking about) to ride go-karts. As I drove that little machine that maybe reached 15 mph and “accidentally” drove my friend Mason into the barrier wall, thus getting whistled at by an employee, I was reminded of a childhood full of family outings to Branson, where my brothers and I would race go-karts through the night, trying to pass and bump one another, competing only as brothers can compete.

I was also reminded of the go-kart my stepfather built for my brother and me, and how he rigged it up to go faster than any go-kart without seat belts should go. Naturally, this led to the often occurrence of my brother punching the gas too fast or over-correcting a turn with me in the kart, causing me to fall out and oftentimes somehow finding my legs or arms run over in the process — an incredibly painful experience at the time, but now a humorous anecdote at family gatherings.

Being out of college for only eight months now, the transition from a life of little responsibility to one full of rent, budgeting and student loan payments obviously wasn’t one I was eager to jump into. While I’m glad to be responsible for myself financially, there are elements of an “adult life” I’m still holding off on.

Oftentimes after work, I go home, sit in an old beat up chair and play video games for a while. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve let my dishes pile up because I simply don’t feel like washing them, and I’ve been known to shun some responsibilities so I could go out and climb trees with the people I’m closest to. I don’t have a family to take care of — after work it’s just me, some friends and the vices we’ve held on to since our youth.

And at 23 years old, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I still have time before I start getting weird looks for trash-talking Mason when he inevitably passes me on the go-kart track, or before my parents tell me I have to quit wasting money to see the newest superhero movie (I can’t tell you how psyched I am for the new Dark Knight movie coming out this weekend), or before I outgrow the same Playstation games I was playing 10 years ago.

I can spend a weekend leaving my house a wreck and flat out refusing to clean it — even if my only excuse for not doing so is because I want to have a Sylvester Stallone movie marathon.

I go to work and, being the youngest person in the Courier newsroom, am reminded of my youth, despite my best attempts at being a professional in a grown-up world. But when I turn in my last story for the day, I look forward to getting home, maybe taking a nap and forgetting all worldly responsibilities until I clock back in tomorrow morning.

And I think that everyone — married or not married, kids or no kids — should take some time to revisit their childhood. Place the stresses of life and work on the shelf from time to time, and just be a kid again.